Out of the Shadows
by trs0010
Summary: Born into Middle Earth as a product of fear and an ancient prophecy, Eriathwen has lived in exile for over a century... until an old friend pays a visit and requests her help. After lurking in the shadows as Thorin Oakenshield's unknown protector, she must decide to continue as part of his company to retake Erebor or return to the darkness.
1. A Favor Requested

**_Prologue: A Favor Requested_**

The first of the evening stars graced the sky and welcomed twilight to Middle Earth. Gandalf the Grey whispered a silent incantation to set his staff aglow and brought light upon the rocky terrain on the outskirts of Rivendell's borders. He would not be paying a visit to Lord Elrond on this evening. He was seeking another formidable and ancient alley: one that had not been spotted outside the shadows of the world for so long, it was believed by some that she had fled Middle Earth long ago.

Rumors from Mirkwood to Lothlórien spread like wildfire over where she vanished once the High Council with Saruman the White's support banished her from the realms of the elves, her home for over four centuries by the Hough Council's decision was ruled. Rumors of her disappearance detailed her sailing across the great sea to lands unknown to those who inhabit Middle Earth; while others felt her absence only signaled her death.

The most trusted and exaggerated whispers told tales of a dark prophecy. A legend so ancient that few existed that could recall its inception. A secret and unspoken fear of Erdolleil, the Dark One, as she was often known, was only biding her precious time and building an army so vile to lead to ultimate demise of all and bring the most evil of powers to hold dominion over Middle Earth.

The horrid legend of Erdolliel ingrained terror in the hearts of countless elves that her true name was lost to all save those who did not succumb to notions of ancient lore and believed that one had a chance to write a destiny of their own.

She was not without her supporters amongst the elves. Her mother was a powerful, highborn elf beloved by all, and the royal blood of the elves coursed through her veins as well. Her mother had a hand in assuring allies for her daughter, mostly amongst the elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien where her kin reside. Though her mother's championing her cause proved not enough to keep her daughter's place secure amongst the elves after her tragic demise.

Though she had not entered the border of Rivendell or any elven stronghold over a century, she held an unspoken mission to protect the realms of her kin. Lord Elrond knew of her lodging outside the borders of her former home. He knew of the many feats of bravery and the battles versus Orcs that stayed to close, battles that went unknown to all. Lord Elrond was grateful for Rivendell's silent protector.

Gandalf, too, was in her corner. The wizard had been very close to her mother and gave her council after the birth of her marked daughter. After her death, he provided the same council and friendship to her daughter, who he had become rather fond. He sought her out this night for he needed a favor that only one who worn the dark as her own skin could accomplish.

He weaved amongst the trees until he reached a monstrous cavern at the foothills of the Misty Mountains. A massive stone baring a carving of the mark of Erdolliel barred the entrance.

"Edro," Gandalf commanded. The stone slowly rolled sided to spread a warm, welcoming light from within the cavern's walls.

The great wizard ducked into the entrance and stood within the home of Erdolliel.

Lanterns brought golden warmth. Fine, elven-made tapestries, with the assistance of elven magic, draped the cavern walls. Wet stone and endless darkness were soon forgotten. One would not have known it was a mountain cavern had they not traveled to its entrance. A lavishly carved bed, that once could be found within the confines of Rivendell, was nestled in the back of the cavern. Sheer drapes, used as makeshift walls, separated the sleeping quarters from the living space.

A grand, heavy trunk stood at the foot of the bed. The trunk held treasures of countless books, quills and ink, maps and clothes ranging from elaborate elven dresses to practical cloaks, boots and trousers. Near the bed, leaning against the cavern wall were a bow and quiver of arrows and an assortment of swords and knives.

Gandalf stood in the middle of the only other "room." Half of the large space served as a seating area. Two well-use but comfortable cushions with an elven table placed between them stood facing the lone artwork in the cavern. A large frame was home to a life-like painting of a painfully beautiful, fair-haired elfish woman. Her eyes shown a blue so bright the color seemed unnatural. She stood in the arms of a rugged and built mousy-hair mortal man who display the sigil of Gondor on his chest.

The remainder of the cave was purposed as a dining and kitchen area. It was small with limited means and did not have the vast pantries seen in the elven realms, but it served it well served its usage.

Gandalf took note of the two place set at the worn, wooden table. A knowing smile graced his lips. She was expecting him.

He found her kneeling over a fire, preparing fish that he assumed she had caught herself.

Her hair fell to her lower back, and though it was braided in a traditional style of the elves, her hair did not possess the straight and polish look seen within the race. It was wavy, wild unruly as it was since her birth. The raven hair was dark as the blackest and starless night, a stark contrast from the fairness of the elves. In certain light, like that of the lanterns and fire within the cave, red undertones of her raven locks would shine and glow.

Her hair was pulled away form her face, making her ears visible. They were not rounded like mortal men, but her ears were not in the distinctive point of the elves. It was a strange blend of the two races. Her ears held a slight point to indicate she was not a true mortal or a true elf. It was similar to those that raised her and once considered her one of their own, but strikingly different to raise the suspicions of the doom foreseen eons ago.

"Mithrandir" her vice spoke with the musicality of the elves with the hint of wisdom gained from her man years. The playfulness, however, was sill ver present for five and a half centuries was very young in eleven terms. "I have been expecting you for some time. I thought would be at my door much sooner than this."

She had not turned to face him, but continued to tend to her work at the fire.

"Lady Eriathwen," he answered with worth present in his voice that brought a twinkle to his blue eyes. He had not seen his old friend in many decades, and it warmed his heart to see her. He removed his cloak and hat and secured the to the natural coat rack made by the rides of the cave. "I am please to the rumors are false, and you are in fact still among us. You have not been seen, milady, in quite some time."

"Not all would rejoice in that revelations," she replied with mirth. "I assure you, Gandalf, I keep my watch as I have for the last century. I am only seen when I see it fit."

She stood with a skillet of fish in her hand and finally turned to face her old comrade.

Her eyes shined a brilliant green and none failed to noticed them compared to her raven locks. Her skin was place and fair like the elves, and her delicate features showcased the natural beauty of the race. She was quite lovely. A beauty not seen in the likes of mortal men, but she lacked the ethereal glow, inborn grace and true unearthly beauty of the elves. Her smile alone more than made up for any lacking for it could easily light the darkest room without any need of lanterns.

She dressed in functional and form-fitting clothing. Since her banishment, she was rarely seen in the intricate fashion of elven women. She lived amongst the wild. Dresses, ornaments and crowns were useless here. She spied, hunted, tracked and fought foes that crawled out of the shadows. Boots, trousers with a fitted undershirt and vest were common staples in her wardrobe. A forest green cloak was never far behind, whatever she needed to aide her in stealth, swift and lethal movements.

"Come," she gestured to the table were she served the roasted fish with steamed potatoes. "It does not rival the extravagance of my kin, but what is mine is yours, old friend. We have much to discuss of that I am sure."

Eriathwen pour a goblet of red wine for herself and the wizard. The two enjoyed their meal in a comfortable silence. It had been many decades since Eriathwen seen the grey wizard, and it had been even longer she she had shared a table with another.

Eriathwen waited for the meal to come to a close before she spoke.

"Something is coming. The signs have presented themselves."

Her eye held the ominous dread of her warning. Gandalf did not speak. He held the gaze of the half-elf intently. He knew of what she spoke. He had seen the signs as well.

"I have kept a vigil over the borders of Rivendell for a century and a half, and never have I been more active," she continued. Her voice grew heavier with each word. "Rumors of trolls coming down from the mountains in the north. Orc packs roam and travel and gather in strength. Those that worship the dark grow bolder."

"I do not know what is on the horizon," she finished, "but Middle Earth must be prepared. We have lived in peace for long. I fear we have grown far too comfortable, and our guard has grown weak. Something lurks out of sight and out of mind. When it reveals itself, it may be too late."

Gandalf pushed away his empty plate and brought forth his pipe from beneath his robes. He set to work on stuffing and lighting it. A troubled and tired look had fallen upon his face as he ponder over Eriathwen's warning.

"I, too, have read the signs the same as you, my child," he replied after taking a drag of piped and exhaling a magnificent smoke ring. "It sparks memories of the dark timer of our world. Until more is known, we must mark the sightings as mere coincidence and keep a stronger eye on the whispers in the shadows."

"Fearing before a true enemy has announce itself gives power for evil to grow where none exists," he warned. "There is another pressing matter at hand that needs our attention."

"Ah, yes," Eriathwen spoke. A smirk lightly played upon her lips, but the worry of an unnamed fear did not fully leave her eyes. "I heard you have been keeping the company of dwarves as of late."

"What do you know of the dwarf kingdom within the Lonely Mountain?" the wizard questioned.

Eriathwen paused to gather her thoughts and scanned her knowledge of the legends of dwarves.

"The history of how the dwarves claimed the mountain as their won, I cannot say with certainty," she began. "The vast treasures and wealth of the dwarves housed within the halls of Erebor has spread to all corners of Middle Earth and is known by all races. Though no dwarf or any creature has stepped foot within the kingdom of Thrór since Smaug the Terrible drove the dwarves from their home and desolated the city of Dale."

"What interest do you have with Erebor?" she quested Gandalf ever curiously.

"It has been two centuries since Smaug took Erebor and its treasures for his own," wizard replied. "The dragon has not been seen in almost six decades. Thorn Oakenshield, son of Thrain and gradson of King Thór, now leads Durin's Folk in their exile. He has read the signs and deems it time to march on the mountain. He is set to reclaim Erebor."

"I intend to provide his company council and aide on their journey," he explained. "It is time for the King Under the Mountain to reign once more."

"Aren't we a bit old for slaying dragons, Mithrandir?" Eriathwen quipped. Confusion still laced her mind as to why Gandalf has called upon her. "Why should this concern me, old friend?"

"Thorin may be in graver danger than he realize," Gandalf solemnly spoke between puffs of his pipeweed. "He will not be the only one to take notice of the dragon's absence. Others in Middle Earth will seek to claim Erebor and its riches for their own."

Eriathwen stirred from her seat. She methodically removed the plates from the table and began to clean away the remnants from supper as he continued.

"Thorin wis gathering a company to march upon the mountain. He will be seeking the alliance of the dwarven kingdoms throughout Middle Earth in preparation for his quest. The news of Thorin's movements will spread, and I fear into the wrong hands. Others may march as well. The dwarf will be tracked, hunted ..._or worse." _

"If the Lord Oakenshield requests a guard, he may do so himself," Eriathwen cut through the wizard's speech. Annoyance was present on her breath. She carried the pride of the elves, and to have the dwarf not request help himself was a slight to the half-elf.

"He does not request you help for he does not know he needs it," Gandalf offered in an attempt to quite her offended feelings. "Though, my child, he would not ask for it even if he knew the dangers that lurk ahead."

"Because I am a woman?" Eriathwen questioned pointedly.

"No, my dear," Gandalf replied with a smile. The women before him had spent her lifetime proving herself as skilled as any male warrior of any race. He knew how quick to anger she was when someone questioned her abilities based on her gender. "Dwarven women as just as fierce as their men and will protect their families with all their might. He would not ask for you are an elf."

"Gandalf, I am no elf," she corrected. She subconsciously touched her left wrist and rubbed something hidden by her shirt sleeve. "You know the Valar's decision. I have no choice."

"Yes," he answered with an air of sadness, "but your mother was a daughter of the Lady of the Light and was a most powerful healer amongst her people. She was respected my elves, men and dwarves alike. Her blood is your blood. That is more than enough to deem you an elf, especially in the eyes of a dwarf."

Eriathwen smiled gently at the thought of the rivalry between the elven and dwarves race.

"Thorin will encounter many a dark foe before his company ever forms and steps a foot from its door," Gandalf continued. "I ask you follow him. Keep to the shadows. Do not reveal yourself until I deem it safe."

"I am to betray his trust before I see his face?"

"He must not know he is being followed," he explained. "He must not know what I have asked of you until the time has come. Thorn's guard mustn't be any more heightened. His enemies need to grow confidence to draw them into the light."

"Mithrandir..."

"I would not ask this of you if I did not feel it necessary," he softly spoke. "You are a tenacious warrior that keeps to the shadows as if you were born into them. You will not be seen, and I trust you will protect his life as if it were your own."

"He needs you more than he knows," he finished.

"It has been well over a century since I have left these borders," Eriathwen answered. He voice drenched with ancient pain. "I will return to the light and the conscious of others before this quest is over, you know this. If I return now in the midst of darkness gathering, it will only spark fear."

**"YOU'VE BEEN HIDING LONG ENOUGH, ERIATHWEN RAVENWOOD!" **Gandalf bellowed. He gathered himself up to look more intimating than ever, and his voice amplified and reverberated throughout the cave. "If the darkness continues to grow and you remain in the shadows, just as much fear will grow of you serving as the puppet master pulling the strings."

"Do you remember the words of your mother before her death?"

A mist covered Eriathwen's eyes. The pain of loss overpowered her as if her mother's death happened mere hours ago and not a century earlier. She turned her gaze upon the lone painting she had of her mother and father.

"You have a hard and lonely path ahead, little one," Eriathwen recalled as thought she was worlds away with her mother. "I will ease the pain while I able, but I will not see the end. Both sides will cite their ancient legends. They will fight to prove theirs are true and drag you to their side. Remember my child: our destinies are not set in stone. You have a choice. Your destiny is yours alone to create You were not born to live up to what was written. You were born to write your own legend."

She brushed away a lone tear that escaped her eye and turned to face the wizard. Her face was set with determination. Her decision had been made. Gandalf has a knowing look on his face. He had seen this look many times before, whether it was on the girl before him or her mother. He knew well what it meant. She was ready for battle. She was prepared to fight.

"Tell me where I must go?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hope I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter of Out of the Shadows. It is my first venture into the world of Middle Earth, so it is a learning process. As some of you know, due to my hectic work and graduate school schedule, it is very hard to update regularly. I will not abandon this story ...nor my other two active fictions... I will continue to post and update chapters as often as I can. I know as readers it is frustrating, it is also frustrating as a writer to not be able to dedicate as much time as I would like, but bare with me! I am determine to finish them all.<strong>

**Though this is just a taste of what is to come, I would love to hear any and all feedback! Thanks for reading! Have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! **


	2. Proper Introductions

**Chapter I: Proper Introductions**

_One Year Later..._

Had it been one year's time? It was difficult for Eriathwen to wrapped her mind around the thought. For twelve months she had followed Thorin Oakenshield throughout Middle Earth as he prepared for his journey to retake his home of Erebor deep within the Lonely Mountain. Her time tailing he from the shadows was to come to a close this very eve. Thorn was on the outskirts of the Shire's borders. He was to travel to Hobbiton to the home of a halfling that Gandalf recruited to serve as the burglar for Thorin's company.

The grey wizard found Eriathwen hiding in the shadows in a small farming town a few miles from Bree. Thorn was enjoying the rare comforts of warm food and a bed at the town's inn, one of the few stays he made during his journey. Gandalf informed her of the meeting organized at Bag End, the home of Bilbo Baggins. He requested Eriathwen to follow Thorin to the hobbit's home for it was then she would present herself to Thorin and his company.

The wizard carried an air of mystery with him that evening as he gave details to the half-elf a few short months ago. She did not know what he had up his sleeve one year ago when he requested her to protect the dwarf lord and was still rather in the dark about his intent. The revelation he now planned was another ripple that she did not comprehend. She knew all would be made clear on Gandalf's time and not a moment sooner. Eriathwen learned long ago to not question the doings of the wizard.

Thorin had not traveled straight to home of Bilbo Baggins when the time came like the other dwarves that had signed into his company over the year. He traveled north to Ered Luin. A meeting amongst all seven kingdoms of the dwarfs was called. Thoring sought allegiance from the other dwarfs lords to retake Erebor. None had answered his call.

The return trip from Ered Luin to the Shire took longer than expected for Thorin became lost on more than once occasion, and Eriathwen confined to the dark could do nothing but watch her unknowing companion.

She was surprisingly saddened by the notion that her time with Thorin Oakenshield was coming to its close. She became rather attached to the dwarf while she served as his hidden guardian.

Over the year. she had watched him as he sat alone in the wildest places of Middle Earth. The fire served as his only companion. He carried a weight much too large for one soul to deal with alone. Guilt, deep longing, grief and sadness flowed through his veins. The untrained eye would not noticed the pent-up emotion held within his small frame. It was the darkest and loneliest nights that brought the feelings to his surface.

Eriathwen understood the feelings of the dwarf lord more than he would ever expect. She endured the pain of the same emotions and would not wish them upon her worse enemy. She felt empathy and compassion for the strong dwarf that carried the weight of his people as his own.

She often wished she could join him beside the fire and offer words of comfort and support, but she remained true to the orders of Gandalf. On some nights during their journey, she swore that Thorin looked into the dark shadows and stared straight through her. Though he could not see her, he would give a small, respectful nod like he knew someone was under the stars with him, like he knew he wasn't alone.

As the journey waned, she fondly recalled the evening she first laid eyes upon Thorin. It was easy to spot a dwarf in the dingy tavern full of men, but had dwarves alone occupied the tavern, Eriathwen would singled out Thorin above the rest with one simple scan of the room.

He was above average height for a dwarf. He was taller than any dwarf Eriathwen had seen during her time. He stood around five-foot tall compared to Eraithwen's five-eight frame. His long, dark hair with streaks of silver fell in ways past his shoulders. Braids woven with dwarven-made claps of silver shined. His well-groomed beard kept his chiseled chin hidden. His nose was sharp, and his blue eyes shown bright in contrast with his dark features.

He wore a fur-covered cloak over a worn, but well-made clothing that hung tight against his muscular form that developed from years of hard work and battle. He was roguish, rugged and handsome. Eriathwen would concede to that observation.

He carried himself with the pride of a born leader. He commanded a room without speaking a word. His mere presence alone did as much. He was groomed to be a king. He exuded the rank and importance that was his by right. The sight of him demanded instant respect. Eriathwen knew immediately, dwarf or not, he was the one she was sent to protect.

The trip from the mountains of the North to the Shire had been uneventful like most of the journey throughout Middle Earth in Thorin's opinion. Eriathwen had a much different take on their travels.

She did not know who wanted the dwarf lord dead and for what reasons, but he had many enemies looming in the dark. She silently stalked her prey ...men and orcs ...using Thorin as bait, and quickly removed the threat before any harm could come to the dwarf. She disposed of his enemies before Thorin knew they existed

It was what she was sent to do: see him safely though Middle Earth as he prepared to march on the Lonely Mountain. Defend his life as it it was just as precious to her as her own.

She had done just that more times that she lost count over the last twelve months. She paid with bruises, sweat and blood. She gently touched her right shoulder. It was still tender to touch and bore an ugly, jagged scar from a Warg attack. It happened during the early stages of her watch. She was highly skilled and handled her own on the field of battle, but it had been some time since she wielded a weapon in combat. She was rusty. Worst of all, her pride she inherited from the elves made her overconfident.

She took on an Orc scout. Though he and his mount did no see the run rise that morning, Eriathwen received a reminder that she was not invincible, and a reminder of how much she would sacrifice for a dwarf that did not know her name.

She trained in elven medicine, but her half-elf status limited her power compared to that of her kin. She did not prepare her journey by packing the herbs and other plants needed to treat wounds, and there was no time to rest. She had a job to complete. She wrapper her shoulder up tightly and continued on like she did with any wounds she received.

Thorn now entered Hobbiton to join his company of dwarves and Gandalf at Bag End with Eriathen not far in his tracks. Eriathwen only wondered if the poor Bilbo Baggins knew what he was getting himself tangled. She had not met many hobbits in her life, but judging by the ones she had crossed paths, adventures that required trekking long distances and facing sinister foes was not in their nature in the slightest.

Eriathwen studied as Thorin knocked upon the hobbit's door. Even his knock carried the same power and respect of his presence. She waited a period for the dwarf to join the company and make necessary introductions before she would join them per Gandalf's request. Movement in the dark caught by the corner of her eye stopped her.

An Orc scout was watching. He was alone and eyeing the hobbit hole with a high-level of interest. He had not seen the half-elf, and she knew she could not let the Orc leave the Shire with his life.

She silently reached behind her, pulled two arrows from her quiver and strung her bow. She aimed right between the Ward's eye. He must be taken down first if she had any chance. She release her grip on the string. The arrows remained true and hit their mark. Warg was struck dead. Its fall caused the Orc to be thrown from his mount. It gave Eriathwen the upper hand.

Before the Orc could stand, Eriathwen stalked being him, slicing his head from his body in a blink of an eye. He had no time to make a sound.

Satisfied with her work, she escaped her sanctuary of the dark forest and into the moonlight. She did not bother to clean her sword. There was not time. Plans needed to be made. She would have time once inside Bag End.

She knocked lightly on the door and turn to face Hobbiton once more. She scanned the tree line for any more unwelcome visitors.

"May I help you, sir?" a voice called.

Eriathwen turned. Her hooded cloak covered her face. She was met by a young dwarf. his beard and long hair were blonde and both were braided with dwarven charms. He had sharp features not unlike Thorin, and she instantly they must be close kin.

"You are not Hobbit," Eriathwen spoke with a smile in her voice as she removed her hood, " so I must be at the right place. I pray I am not too late."

You are no man," the blonde dwarf said in disbelief. He took in the sight of her. Beneath her disheveled hair and the flecks of dirt and dried blood hon her face, he could see the beauty of the sword-wielding woman.

Fili, at your service," he introduced himself with a bow, "but you may call me whatever you choose, milady." A charming smirk played on the corners of his lips at the last part of his introduction.

A matching smirk grace Eriathwen's face at Fili's bold introduction. She immediately took a liking to the young dwarf. Her smirk falter when she glanced over his shoulder to see the halfling lying unconscious upon the ground.

"Is he alright?" she commented while motioning towards the hobbit.

"Just a bit of a fright," another young dwarf answered. He stood behind Fili. He, too, shared similar features though he sported darker beard and wavy locks. "Not all of us are bold when faced with the promise of slaying dragons," he boasted. His puffed his chest out with pride.

"Kili, at your service," he said with a bow.

Eriathwen smiled at the two dwarves trying their best to impress her, but before she could deliver a charming response a voice from behind called.

"I was beginning to think you were not coming," Gandalf the Grey spoke. He lowered under a frame to enter the foyer.

"In the centuries you have known me, my friend," Eriathwen began, "when have I ever not appeared?"

She entered Bag End and removed her cloak. She placed her cloak on the last remaining hook by the door. She stored her quiver and bow against the wall. She kept her sword in grip to clean from the skirmish.

"I am always there," she continued. Gandalf led her into the dining area with a table full of dwarves waiting. Thorin sat at the head of the table. "I am always watching, even if no one realizes it. I had to ensure that Lord Oakenshield was not followed into the Shire."

"Was he?" Gandalf questioned. He ignored the confused and questioning looks the company of dwarves were exchanging as the two sat down amongst them.

"A single Orc scout had followed him to Hobbiton's borders," she spoke. She took a small cloth from her pocket and began to clean her weapon. "I wouldn't allow that vile creature to leave with his life. Not on my watch. Hobbits are gentle folk. They do more good for this world than most and should not know the true evils of this world."

As on cue, a voice called from the hall.

"Is that blood?"

Bilbo had stirred from his fainting spell and rejoined them.

"Ah, it is," Eriathwen replied. "Orc. Nasty business. They make the most terrible squeal when you stab then through the heart if they even have one. I wouldn't worry little one. I expect we won't be hearing from him any time soon."

"I think I'm going to be sick," the hobbit grimaces at the sight of the women covered in dirt, grime and thing he did not want to imagine cleaning a bloody sword at this dining table.

"I think I'm in love," Fili commented.

He earned laughs form the younger dwarves around him and scoffs from the elder members of the company. Eriathwen shot a wink to the dwarf across from her which induced more whoops of laughter. She sheathed her sword and pulled back her the loose strands of hair that fell from her braids.

"You're an elf!" Bilbo commented after seeing Eriathwen's ears that were no longer hidden by her hair.

"She if no elf," Thorin responded and silenced the room. He had not spoken since Eriathwen entered the room, but his gaze full of judgement did not leave her figure. She felt the power of it the moment she sat down. It was unsettling to finally be in the presence of the man she had secretly guarded for so long.

"Lord Oakenshield is correct," she said. She turned form the hobbit to look at Thorin properly for the first time. "I am no elf, not truly. I have guarded you for many moons Thorin Oakenshield. I believe introductions are long over due."

"I did not ask for a guard," he spat, "especially not from the one that bares the mark, Erdolliel."

"I see the ghost stories of the elves have reached the ears of the dwarves," Eriathwen said. Pain with hidden within her voice. "You know what I am called, but you do not know my name. Eriathwen Ravenwood, my lord. You may not have requested a guard, but you more than needed my service."

'My journey to the Shire has been seen without foe," he retorted haughtily.

"You're welcome," Eriathwen replied with pride lacing her words.

"Why were you following me?" he questioned.

"By my request," Gandalf answered. "I feared that others would seek claim of the Lonely Mountains and you movements would only fan the flames. It seems that I was right. As you said, you were met without foe. I believe Lady Eriathwen would be a valuable member to have in your company."

"I do not need the help of elves," Thorin darkly spoke. His words carried the still fresh pain of a betrayal from long ago.

Gandalf was about to summon power to argue the stubborn dwarf, but Eriathwen help up her hand to stop him short.

"I do not have your trust," she began. All eyes in the room turned to her. "I have done nothing to earn it. I have misled and betrayed your confidence from the start by jumping from shadow to shadow. It is wise to be leery. It shows that you are smart, and that will prove to be more valuable on this quest than the sword on my hip."

Thorn slowly stood and turn his back on the room. He took in her words one-by-one. The other dwarves also listened intently as the half-elf continued.

"As you said, I am no elf," she spoke. A small smile upon her face. She knew for once that not being a true elf may fall in her favor. "I left the security of the mountainside I call my home. I have followed you blindly without question for a year. I bleed for you. I killed for you. I would have given my life to protect yours. I served you this long and allowed no harm to come your way. I ask you allow me to see this journey to its end. Let me continue to serve you."

"Why would you help me?" he asked. He did not turn to face her.

"I know what it is like to watch those that you treasure be taken from you," Eriathwen answered. Her voice dripped with pain held fro centuries. It stuck a chord with the dwarves around her. "I know what it is like to have the elves, my own family, turn their backs when their help was needed most. I know what it is like to watch your home be ripped from your grasp without anything in your power being able to stop it. I know what it is like to wonder without a home."

I can never regain my home, but you can," her voice swelling with hope. "You will. I pledge my bow, my sword and any other skill I possess that will help you reclaim the Lonely Mountain. I swear to you will step foot in Erebor once more."

Slience befell as Thorin contemplated her speech. Gandalf had a smile playing on his lips as if he had planned this himself months ago. The remaining members of the company began to argue amongst themselves for the silence was too long for them to bare. Her speech stirred emotions and support from some. Kill and Filie led the charge being most adamant about her inclusion to the journey to the Lonely Mountain. Others who knew of her legacy or feared having a woman in the company argued against it.

Thorn turned to his right his right to face the oldest member of the company.

"Balin?" he asked.

"She has proven where her sword lies," the white-haired dwarf spoke. "We aren't in any position to turn away help."

"Whether you will allow me to travel amongst your company or not, we travel the same path," Eriathwen spoke. She gained the floor once more. "I love outside the borders of Rivendell at the foot of the Misty Mountains. Let me accompany you till our paths diverge. By then, if I have not proven my worth, my value and my loyalty, we will part ways. You will not see me again."

Thorin held the half-elf's gaze. After a long pause that filled the room with the heat between the two, Thorin spoke.

"You will travel with us as far as the based of the mountains, but no more."

His decision received gruffs from some and quiet cheers from others in the company. No one dared argued his decision. Gandalf looked at Eriathwen with respect. He was quiet proud of how she handled the often difficult dwarf.

With a smirk plastered on her face, she nodded at her new dwarven leader.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Merry Christmas! My gift to you all is the newest chapter of Out of the Shadows. I hope you all enjoy the latest installment! Thanks to PJO-Blue-cookies, DD and my other guest <strong>**reviewer for leaving reviews! Always enjoy hearing from readers. Would love to hear from everyone as I blend the book and film series as well as I can and travel through Middle Earth as a writer for the first time. Thank you for the favorites, follows and reviews ...hope to hear you again! Till next time. **_


	3. So it Begins

**_Chapter II: So It Begins…_**

The stars brightly shined and danced along the skyline above Hobbiton as the night waned. The company of Thorin Oakenshield had expanded to thirteen total dwarves ranging in ages of young and old, one wizard and a temporary addition of a half-elven maiden. The dwarves had disbanded into small groups within Bag End in comfortable, quiet talk. Tomorrow they would disband from the Shire and begin their lengthy and undoubtedly dangerous journey to the Lonely Mountain. The rag-tag crew was still one member short.

They did not have their burglar. Bilbo Baggins was not as comfortable with the thought of venture outside his hobbit hole, and Eriathwen did not blame the little creature. Bag End was warm and cozy, a most homely of places. It was the first home she had entered since leaving her own cavern dwelling, and it was certainly an upgrade from her own home.

The warnings and tales of Smaug had shaken Bilbo to his core. Eriathwen wielding her blood-soaked sword at his dinner table did nothing to soothe the matter. He had proven to several members of the company and especially their leader that the hobbit was not cut out to face the wild places and creatures that inhabit Middle Earth.

Eriathwen had not delivered her judgment. He had no experience in battles. He had never left the comforts of the Shire, yet Gandalf had chosen him to be a part of this quest. She placed her trust within in her old friend. She may not know nor understand them, but she knew the wizard had his reasons.

The little hobbit, a cup of warm tea to clam his nerves, was sitting in his chair near the fire. He was still recovering from his fainting spell near the fire. Gandalf was in deep conversation with the hobbit. The old wizard loomed larger than ever speaking to the owner of the small-scaled hobbit hole.

Eriathwen, silently listening, stared over Hobbiton through a window in the back of the sitting room. Her pale skin glistened more than ever in the moonlight spilling into the dark corner of the room. She felt out of place amongst the groups of dwarves reminiscing over tales of their home, recalling stories of their travels and catching up for lost times since their last meetings with the others.

She was not the only one overhearing the conversation between Bilbo and Gandalf. In the hallway leading to the back rooms of Bag End, Thorin Oakenshield was in quiet conversation with Balin, the oldest and wisest of the company. They two were listening to hear the fate of their burglar.

"You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you back," Gandalf concluded the story of Bilbo's great-great-great-great uncle Bullroarer Took and the Battle of Green Fields.

It was Gandalf attempt to play to the desires of adventure that course through the Took bloodline and reached that same spirit that once resided in Bilbo during the days of his youth.

"Can you promise that I will come back," Bilbo asked.

"No," Gandalf answered truthfully, "and if you do, you will not be the same."

The weight of his words fell heavily on Bilbo's mind.

"That's what I thought," he spoke. "Sorry, Gandalf. I can't sign this. You've got that wrong Hobbit."

Bilbo walked away from the wizard, brushed past Thorin and Balin in the hallway and retreated to his bedroom in the back of Bag End.

Gandalf release a heavy sigh.

"He needs time, Mithrandir," Eriathwen spoke. She moved from her vigil at the window and join Gandalf.

"It was not long ago that you came to my door with tales of dwarves, dragons and gold," she smiled. "It's a bit overwhelming. I was not eager to join the fray either, and I have spent much of my days in the harsher places of this world."

"But time is one thing we do not have," Gandalf replied.

"When the time comes, he will make the right decision, as did I," Eriathwen finished as she lost herself in the gaze of the burning embers of the fire.

"It appears we have lost out burglar," Balin commented to Thorin in the hallway after witnessing the exchange. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers… hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors amongst us," Thorin smirked to his old friend.

"Old warrior," Balin fondly smiled.

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills," Thorin mused. "For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart... I can ask no more than that."

"What of the elf?" Balin questioned.

The two dwarves leaned into the sitting room to look upon the maiden in question. Thorin eyed her intently as he took in the rather unimposing from of the tall, slender woman. She delicately brushed a strand of raven hair behind her pointed ear and her green eyes shown fiercely in the glow of the fire.

When she first made her entrance into Bag End, something about her struck him. It was unsettling. He did not know nor understand the connection between himself and the half-elf. It was violate and instant. He knew it would be a long journey with the woman in their midst.

"I do not know," he spoke with his eyes never straying from her. "She does not have my trust. She may prove to be more trouble than she is worth."

"What woman is not?" Balin joked. "She's done more than most for you, lad. If she's done all she claims, we may need her before it is over. At the least, Kili and Fili will enjoy the company of a beautiful lass."

"That's what I am afraid of," he replied, shaking his head at his nephews' antics. "I pray we do not need her sword or any sword on our journey."

A long pause fell between the two friends as the contemplated the dangers they may face once they step out of the door in the morning.

"You don't have to do this," Balin spoke. "You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty, a life worth more than all the gold in Erebor.

Thorin held out the centuries-old dwarven key for Balin to look upon.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me," he said with pride. "They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice for me."

"Then we are with you, laddie," Balin spoke. "We will see it done."

Eriathwen stood in comfortable silence near Gandlaf side. The hint of his pipeweed filled her lungs with every breath. The remainder of Bag End fell into silence as well until the murmurs of hums hit Eriathwen's ears.

Thorin's deep voice began a mournful tune of their lost home of Erebor. His voice was hauntingly beautiful and filled Eriathwen with the pain and longing of home that she shared with the dwarf. The rest of the company soon joined his voice, and the sound filled Bag End with their song until all was quiet with its end.

Dawn would be upon them soon. It would be soon time before they would have a solid night's rest. The dwarves began to settle down for the evening. Eriathwen returned to her post at the window watching the sleeping world below her glow in its silver light. Thoughts of her long forgotten home came to mind.

"Must have some fellow worried sick," a voice at her side spoke.

She tilted her gaze to see Fili had joined her by the window.

"Been follow my uncle for a year," he continued. "Now you're tagging along with us for a spell. He must miss you."

"A very smooth way to ask that question," she said with a smile and turn back to the window.

"I thought it was clever," he joked with a shrugged.

"No one is waiting," she said softly. He wasn't quite sure if she was speaking to him or speaking to a ghost far away.

"I'm no elf," he said.

"Clearly," she kindly laughed, interrupting him.

"As I was saying," he continued with a playful, annoyed look, "I'm no elf, but I would imagine a beauty like you would have the men in fits."

"It's not such a simple manner," she answered, drifting off into another world. "Long ago when I was young and did not know the harshness of the world, there was one. I was very much in love, but love is the cruelest trick the world can pull upon you."

"We have an early start ahead of us," she spoke before he could question her further. "I would suggest you find sleep while you can."

"Goodnight, milady," he said with a nod.

"Sweet dreams, Fili," she said with a smile.

* * *

><p>Many miles stood between Bag End and the foothills of the Misty Mountains where their paths were to part. Fili knew he had more than enough time to gather the story of the mysterious, and troubled half-elf amongst them.<p>

Dawn came swiftly. The company awoke and enjoyed a quick breakfast with what remained in Bilbo's pantry. A few of the dwarves made wages over breakfast if Master Baggins would be joining them. They straightened up Bag End once the meal was through, leaving absolutely no trace that they had been there the night before save the unsigned contract of Bilbo Baggin's that was left on the end table by Bilbo's chair.

After packing up their weapons and donning cloaks, Thorin lead the company to Bywater to make the necessary purchases for provisions and acquire ponies and horses for their travels. By 11 a.m., the company without their hobbit.

Thorin lead the group out of Bywater. Gandalf and Eriathwen stood tall on their horses above the dwarves. Eriathwen remained in the back of the pack, her eyes scanning the tree lines for any foes. Few members of the company grumbled complaints about the time wasted on the Hobbit.

Just as the company reached the outskirts of the Shire a shout halted them. Bilbo Baggins, a large pack on his pack, walked up to Balin and handed him a folded stack of papers.

"I signed it!" he said proudly.

Balin took the contract and inspected it with a pocket-glass he gathered from his pocket. Once he was satisfied, Balin smiled at the hobbit.

"Everything appears to be in order," he announced. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

Many of the dwarves cheered at the knowledge that their much-needed burglar would be traveling with them after all. Eriathwen smiled at the bravery that the little hobbit showed. She gazed at the Thorin at the front of the pack. He did not look impressed with Bilbo.

"Give him a pony," he ordered and turned to continued onward.

Bilbo began to protest, but his speech was cut short as Fili and Kili rode alongside him. The two dwarves picked him up from behind and placed him squarely on a pony. The hobbit fell towards the back of the pack near Gandalf and Eriathwen. Bilbo looked quite terrified of the beast as the company trudged forward. The pony neighing and tossing its head did not make its rider any more comfortable. Eriathwen had to muffle a laugh from the sight of him.

The dwarves began laughing and shouting as they began to toss sacks of money amongst them.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turned up," Gandalf explained. "Most of them bet that you wouldn't."

"What did you think?" Bilbo asked.

As if on cue, Gandalf caught a sack of money that was tossed to him and placed it in his bags.

"My dear fellow," Gandalf said with a smile. "I never doubted you for a second."

"And you?" Bilbo asked the half-elf.

"The gold of dwarves have little use to me," she said, "but I had faith that you would turn up before it was over, or at least I had hope. I don't think I would have last very long with these many dwarves."

She lightly laughed, and Bilbo began to relax for the first time since forced upon the pony. The hobbit gave a loud sneeze in comparison to his tiny form.

"All this horsehair, I'm having a reaction," he muttered.

He began to search his pockets for a handkerchief, and it quickly became a lost cause. He looked up in shock, as he was unable to find it.

"No, no!" He shouted. "Wait, wait! Stop! Stop! We have to turn around."

Eriathwen couldn't hold her smile at the hobbit's actions though she knew that Thorin was already annoyed at Bilbo's late appearance with the company. This stoppage would only fuel that fire further. The entire company halted. The dwarves began to object and ask what the problem was.

"What of earth is the matter?" the wizard asked.

"I forgot my handkerchief," he explained.

Bofur, as Eriathwen had learned, tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and tossed it to the hobbit. "Here! Use this."

Bilbo caught the rag with a look of disgust as he examined it. His face earned a round of laughs from the dwarves.

"Move on." Thorin commanded. The frustration was evident in his voice. The company followed his lead.

Eriathwen trotted up beside Bilbo.

"Take this," she offered. She handed his a silk handkerchief with intricate blue thread embroidered designs. "My mother wove it herself. The craftsmanship of the elves survives the test of time, and anything you can throw at it."

"It's beautiful," Bilbo awed as he studied the silk fabric. "I can't accept this."

"Yes, you will," Eriathwen corrected with a smile, "consider it a gift.

"Are they many of you?" Bilbo questioned. "Half-elves, that is?"

"Curious one, aren't you?" she laughed. "Twice before there have been unions between elves and men, and I suspect that my parent's union will not be the last."

The company's conversations began to die as they listened in on the hobbit and the half-elf's conversation.

"The Valar allows the children born of these unions to decide," she continued. "One can choose a mortal life amongst the race of men or an immortal life amongst the race of men."

"My uncle, Lord Elrond of Rivendell was half-elf. His choice was made with the elves, while his brother pick mortality."

"What have you picked?" Bilbo asked.

A pained look passed over her face, but Eriathwen recovered quickly.

"I was not presented a choice," she began. "An ancient legend exists amongst my people. I was foreseen to fulfill this prophecy. With this knowledge, the Valar did not deem me worthy of a choice. As punishment, I stay in this suspended state or mortal, but extended life. I have seen my father's kin slowly die, one by one, generation by generation. My mother's kin will one day sail across the great Sea to the Gray Havens. My banishment from the elven race will not allow me to follow. I will remain until I slowly fade."

"Surely, your parents…" Bilbo began, but the heartbreak in the eyes of the half-elf stopped him.

"They both paid with their lives to give me what semblance of normal life as they could," she solemnly spoke of their sacrifice.

"What of the prophecy? What does it say?" Bilbo questioned.

"I believe that is enough questioned for now, little one," she said with a smile. "We have many miles to travel. Many stories will be shared as we go on, and we must not waste all of them in the opening minutes."

She clicked her heels against her stead and trotted ahead lost in the ghosts and memories of a life long ago.

* * *

><p><strong>Good evening, lovelies! Hope you have enjoyed the latest installment of Out of the Shadows. I want to thank everyone for the support of the stories in its early stages! Thank you for the views, follows, favorites and special shoutout to my reviewers from the previous chapter: PJO_Blu-cookies, Jotun-Pheonix, Thranduil the Elvenking, DD and LittleApollyon. Enjoyed reading your reviews, and I believe I responded to you all! If I missed you, I'm so sorry! My other stories (Batman and Harry Potter genres) have been undated the last week, so if you are <strong>**interested, check my profile. **

**Again, I hope you all enjoy and continue to leave reviews, favorites, etc.! Until next time!**


	4. Shadows of the Past

**Chapter III: Shadows of the Past**

The company of Thorin Oakenshield with its escort of Eriathwen, as that was what she was refer as by the dwarf lord for he did not consider her part of his company, just a unwarranted distracted, had traveled far from the comforts of hobbit-lands and have entered far into the Lone-lands.

No people of any race passed them by on their daily travels. There were no inns to rest their heads in the evenings after a hard day's venture. They camped under a blanket of stars in the dark of the night. The roads grew steadily worse as the company moved along, making for slow going, but not all was filled with gloom.

Up to this point in their journey, the company's venture had been quite merry. The dwarves told stories of the glory of Erebor when its halls were filled with the voices of their kin and of legendary battles against goblins and orcs. All sang songs, and the days seemed much shorter with the laugh and mirth exchanged.

Eriathwen was a silent observer throughout the majority of the venture, but she did not mind. It had be countless years since she had been in the company of so many, and she quite enjoyed the stories and songs of the dwarves. She would find herself smiling and laughing along and her heart felt light. Lighter than it had felt since she could remember… until the leader of the company ever caught her eye.

Thorin had not opened his arms in welcome from the start. As the journey continued, his stance towards the half-elf had not changed. He kept a cool and careful eye on her movements. The power of his judging gaze would be more than enough to crumble even the strongest and most fortified of person. Eriathwen did not show any waiver by any outward appearances, but internally she was continually second-guessing and calculating her actions in front of the dwarf.

He did his best to avoid close contact with Eriathwen, and if the two managed to be in the same circle, Thorin had mastered the cold shoulder. He did not speak to her more than he needed, and when he did decide to grace her with his attention, he never called her by her true name. It was always either half-elf or more often than not the name that Eriathwen despised more than ever would let on, Erdolliel. Thorin was silently counting the days until he could part with the nuisance in his company, and they could not get to the foot of the Misty Mountains fast enough.

It seemed that only Bilbo received rougher treatment than Eriathwen. The two had a silent bond knowing that they were the outcasts amongst the dwarves. The duo spent most of the journey near the back of the pack with Gandalf with the tiny hobbit asking Eriathwen a thousand and one questions about the lives of elves. She was happy to answer each and every question for the Bilbo's interest and fascination with the elves was so clear in his eyes, and Eriathwen could not help but tell the stories of her lost kin.

Eriathwen was not a complete outcast amongst the dwarven company. She had won the support and budding friendship with a few of the company, especially the young nephews of one dwarf lord, and made sure to include her in their tales around the campfires at night and travels by day. Kili and Fili had worked their charm and had gotten the half-elf to share some stories of elven heroes of old, not to the approval of Thorin. She had even sung one or two ballads her mother once sung to her as a child. Her airy voice speaking in a language that most of the company did not understand intrigued and captivated all.

Many questions still lingered about the past of the mysterious half-elf in their midst and reasons why she was banished from the real of elves and deemed unworthy by the Valar to choose her fate. When any asked a question too personal for Eriathwen's liking, she would also expertly dodge the question and reroute the topic of conversation.

It was not until one particular evening that the company was privileged with more insight of Eriathwen's past life and found that Erdolliel and the future King Under the Mountain had more commonalities than the dwarf ever considered.

On this evening, the company had made their camp for the night near the edge of a steep cliff. The forests they had venture though lay far below them and stretched as far as the eye could see in the bright light provided by the stars. It was late in the evening, most of the dwarves had fallen asleep propped against rocks, trees, packs and whatever makeshift pillows they could wrangle.

The only other sound that could be heard over the snoring of dwarves was the crackling of the warm fire. Gandalf, Eriathwen, Bilbo, Kili and Fili were the only members that had not fallen under the spell of sleep. They were comfortable spread around the fire in friendly silence. Eriathwen watched as Biblo reached into his pack for a hidden treasure of an apple, checked to see if anyone was watching and shared the treat with the pony. Eriathwen could not hide the smile that graced her lips watching the hobbit. The little creature ever amazed her.

A foul piercing scream shattered the silence. Eriathwen immediately reacted. She knew that horrid sound better than any, and she knew its owner. She jumped to her feet and whipped her sword to the ready in a blink of the eye and before any of the others could react. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her knuckles were white from the intense grip she kept on her blade.

The frightened Bilbo rushed back to the sanctuary near the fire.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Orcs," Eriathwen spat while another howl was heard.

Thorin, who had been dozing on a nearby rock, jerked awake upon hearing the word. His movement did not faze Eriathwen who still stood like a rock at the ready, save her head darting back and forth waiting for an attack.

"Orcs?" the hobbit questioned. The fear could be heard in his voice.

"Thoat-cutters," Fili answered. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep," Kili picked up, making sure to add the appropriate hand gestures for effect. "Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."

Bilbo took an audible gasp of breath and turned away from the young dwarves in terror. Fili and Kili exchanged looks and began to chuckle at their handy work.

"You think that's funny?" came the heavy voice of their uncle. The two were quickly silenced. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili offered.

"No, you didn't," Thorin sharply retorted. "You know nothing of the world."

The dwarf lord turned his back on his nephews, strode to the edge of the cliff and gazed over the valley below. Kili lowered his head embarrassed to be scoled by his uncle. Fili look to his side

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin kindly said as he walked over to the duo. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Balin began his tale of what became of the dwarves after Samug had taken the Lonely Mountain and King Thror's attempt to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria.

As the elder dwarf continued, Eriathwen felt a gentle touch on her tight grip around her sword's hilt. She had not lowered her guard or her stance since the first screamed had sounded. She looked down to see Fili's hand upon hers.

"You alright, milady?" he asked with concern.

Eriathwen gently smiled at the young dwarf, though it did not reach her eyes, and relaxed somewhat. She returned her sword to its sheath and rejoined him by the fire taking up her previous spot.

"I'm fine," she nodded, but Fili knew that was a lie. He could see something in her eyes as the fire flickered within them. Something else was stirring within the half-elf, but before he could question her, Balin's story of the Battle of Azanulbizar began to hit its fever pitch. Eriathwen was enthralled by the story as her ears began to pick up Balin's words and not search for unwanted visitors in the dark. The dwarf was an excellent weaver of stories.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the most vile of all their race…"

"Azog the Defiler," Eriathwen finished with a haunt in her voice that was unfamiliar to the dwarves. She noticed that Thorin tensed at the mention of the orc, and those around Eriathwen noticed the hatred and hurt in her vivid, green orbs and the shaking of her always steady hands.

"The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin," Balin continued. "He began by beheading the King."

Eriathwen gazed upon the dwarf lord at the edge of the cliff. Her heart swelled with emotions. Ones of empathy and understand. As Balin continued to recall the battle and how Thrain was lost as well as all hope to the now leaderless dwarves until the dwarf prince himself stared down the Pale Orc, Eriathwen could not take her gaze off of Thorin's back. Her eyes open with such clarity as she saw him in a different light, a light not much different than her own.

She began to understand the grief and worries that he carried. She began to understand just what the betrayal of the elves cost the dwarves. She began to understand why he kept himself so guarded. She began to understand why she was so willing to follow him blindly to this point. She saw how much alike she and Thorin Oakenshield truly were though he did not understand it himself.

Balin told of how Thorin stood alone against the orc with save an oaken branch as a shield and how Azog was vanquished in battle. Eriathwen was overcome with another emotion she could not describe as she learned of what Thorin accomplished in battle years ago. She had never felt anything like this, but she knew she was in awe of the dwarf doing something she feared would never happen: bring death to the Defiler. She quickly wiped away a lone tear of what she could only place as one of gratitude away before it was noticed.

"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow," Balin finished. "There is one I could call King."

Thorin turned from the view beyond the cliff slowly and with the grace of royalty that was born into him. The entire company was awake and stared at their leader in the same mesmerizing fashion that Eriathwen worn. He walked between the members of the company back towards the fire to return to his resting place.

"But the pale orc?" Bilbo asked. "What happened to him?"

Thorin stopped in front of the hobbit and looked down at him. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came," he spat. "That filth died of his wounds long ago. I will not waste my breath on the Pale Orc any more."

"If you have any more question, you can directed them to his beloved," Thorin said dark and mockingly as he turned his gaze onto the half-elf. He roughly brushed past her and back to his spot without another word."

"I do not know much of love," Eriathwen spoke with the flare of anger, "but I do not think the slaughtering of one's family constitute a proposal. Do not speak of what you do not know."

Whatever feelings that stirred within her for the dwarf was extinguished with his comment. She stormed away from the fire and took up the position at the edge of the cliff that Thorin previously had held. She positioned herself on the edge so her feet were dangling freely in the drop below her and gaze upon the moon trying to quiet her anger before she did or said something to invoke the wrath of Thorin.

Thorin watched her flee and felt a tinge of guilt touch his heart for upsetting her so, but he did not make a move to go to her side and make amends for his words. He knew of the elven prophecy she was born and thought to fulfill, but he did not know what it had cost her.

He should have known better than to throw around words. He was their leader, and he was not going to apologize and show weakness for the tears of a women. There was no time for feelings on this quest. He slowly rolled over to his side to block out the sight of the upset half-elf.

"That was brilliant," Fili spoke with sarcasm dripping from his words. "You have a way with women, Uncle."

The blonde dwarf left the comfort of the fire to join Eriathwen on the ledge and lend a comfort for his uncle's unwise words. They sat in silence for he did not know what to say, and she was trapped in the thoughts of a time long forgotten.

"What happened to them?" he finally asked. "Your parents?" He knew it was a stupid and possibly callous to ask her, but it was all he knew to do. It seemed she had not spoken of her parents' death in some time, maybe not at all, and he would offer her a listening ear that she hadn't had in centuries.

A long pause fell upon the two, and Fili thought he had crossed the line and was about to retreat and leave her with her thoughts when she spoke.

"I was knocking on the doors of my youth when my father passed," she slowly started. She did not look upon the dwarf and continued to gaze at the brilliant sky. "It was so long ago that my memory fades, and I often have trouble recalling his voice, his face."

"An orc pack had been spotted a few miles outside the borders of Rivendell," Eriathwen continued. "My father was leading a charge of elves to force the orcs' hand early."

* * *

><p><em>A teenaged Eriathwen stood in full armor in her dressing chambers connected to her bedroom. She was expertly tying back her raven mane while silently studying her form in the battle regalia.<em>

_"Where do you think you are going my warrior princess?" a voice from behind her called._

_She turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her father, dressed in his Gondorian armor, was leaning against the doorframe. His light brown hair shown in the sunlight, and his matching eyes held a knowing gleam looking at the girl. A smile spread across the young girl's face, and she turn back to the mirror to finish braiding her hair._

_"They come for me, do they not?" she questioned. Her face set with determination for the impeding battle._

_"They do, my child," he sadly spoke as he came behind his daughter and place a loving hand on her shoulder._

_"Let them come," she challenged. She expertly pulled her long sword from its sheath. "Father, I have trained day in and day out for this moment. I am ready."_

_Eriathwen had trained. She spent hours on end working with her father, her uncle Lord Elrond and the surest members of the guard. She had practice with every weapon imaginable. She knew the enemy would knock on her door some day soon, and she would be ready, but she was young, overconfident and reckless. _

_She had something to prove. She had spent every year of her short life not proving she was as good as the boys, but she wanted to prove she could do anything an elf could do and do it better. She did not know then that she would be spending centuries trying to prove her worth. _

_"Not today, my love," he commanded. _

_"Father, this is my war," she argued. "I will not cower in my room while others spill their blood and give their lives for my safety. It is not their sacrifice to make. If they are to fight, they should see that I am just as willing to die for this cause. It is my fate we are fighting, and I should play a part in how it unfolds!"_

_ A kind smile broke upon the man's face as he looked upon his daughter dressed for war with so much pride in his eyes. It was no mistake that she was his._

_"Today, it is not your battle," he smiled. He led her to her bedroom. He took a set on her bed and patted the spot next to him. She reluctantly joined knowing that her dreams of following her father would soon be crushed._

_"There are still those willing to raise the banners and go to war for you when you call," he continued as he wrapped a fatherly arm around her shoulders. "One day, my child, no one will come when you sound the alarm, and that is when this battle is yours." _

_She look dejectedly at her lap and mentally cursed herself for being so young and not mature enough for battle. She did not know how much she would miss these times in years to come._

_"I pray I do not live to see the day my daughter marches to war," he continued, "but it would be an honor to fight by your side."_

_She looked up at with only the adoration a daughter holds for her father. He ruffled her hair in a tender moment._

_"You are missing something…"_

_He removed the leather wrist cuffs that boasted the sigil of Gondor in silver emboss. They had seen many a battle with their owner. He gently attached them to his daughter's wrists and tied them secure._

_"Now you are truly a warrior," he boasted._

_"But father…" she protested. She was taken aback. She knew the history of these cuffs; she could not accept such a token. _

_"Keep them till I return," he said with a wink. _

_He began to stride to the door._

_"You will come back?" she asked with a waiver in her voice. It was the first time she had shown the young girl underneath the metal._

_"Keep an out on the horizon," he spoke gesturing to the window near her bed that showed a marvelous view of Rivendell. "Come sunset tomorrow, you will see me ride home to you."_

* * *

><p>"I waited every sunset for a century at that window," Eriathwen spoke as she looked down at her hands on her lap. The wrist cuffs firmly attached. "He never came home. The orcs were defeated that day, but he was missing. No one saw him fall. No body was ever found. It was believed that he was injured in battle and carried away to the orcs' stronghold. If it is true, then I do not want to imagine the terrors he faced on behalf."<p>

Fili placed a comforting hand on her shoulder for he had no words of comfort to offer. An apology for her lost seemed futile. He knew the pain of not knowing the fate of someone. Thorin was not the only one to feel the pain of the lost of Thrain. Fili and Kili never knew what happened to their grandfather that day in battle.

"I lost my mother a century and half ago," Eriathwen continued. "After father, she and I would spend the summer months in Mirkwood. We were traveling back to Rivendell when Azog came."

* * *

><p><em>Lady Idrial and Eriathwen, flanked by elven guard, had been traveling for days from Mirkwood back to their home in Rivendell. <em>

_"Milday!" a shout was heard ahead. The company came to halt as the scout road back with troubling news._

_"Orc pack is heading this way," he warned. "He is with them." _

_A fleeting look of panic struck Lady Idrial before determination took over._

_"Manwa an ohta,"," she ordered. _

_She turned to her daughter and placed a hand on her cheek. She gazed upon her face for what she knew would be the last time._

_ "Leyla," she commanded._

_"No, I will fight," Eriathwen argued._

_"You will returned to the Mirkwood," Lady Idrial corrected. "You will run, and you will not look back. Promise me."_

_"Mother!"_

_"Vanda nye, melda," she spoke more firmly._

_Eriathwen turn her horse in the direction of the Mirkwood with a scowl on her face. _

_"__Eriathwen," her mother called. She turned her horse to face her. "Enyalnyë mana quentë."_

_Eriathwen nodded firmly recalling the conversation they had on their last night in the Mirkwood. The conversation she would recall when a old friend would request a favor years from now. Eriathwen kick her heels and raced her horse forward as her mother commanded. Angry tears spilled down her face for listening. She knew she should have stay and fought. They were outnumbered, whether she was counted amongst them. Her mother was making the __ultimate sacrifice for it was the only thing she could do to save her daughter one last time._

_She did not dare stop until she reached the hill that overlooked the valley. In the clearing, she saw her mother being held by her throat in the massive grip of Azog. _

_"__Go, my child," she heard her mother whisper as if she was by her side. _

_She did not turn away fast enough to miss the image of the Pale Orc ripping the throat of her mother with his hands alone._

_"__MOTHER!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. It carried over the orcs below. She kicked her horse away as hot tears streamed down her face. She kept her mother's last promise. She returned to the Mirkwood. She did not stop her horse until she was in the safety of the woods. She never remembered how she managed to get there for tears blinded her vision. She always felt her mother had guided her horse, but she had made it to her second home._

_She did not know it then, but it would be the last time she was ever welcomed there._

* * *

><p>"The Pale Orc has been vanquished," Fili offered weakly as a consolation, his hand never leaving her shoulder. "Never can he harm another."<p>

"I have no doubts your uncle issued a devastating blow to the monster," she said, looking at Fili for the first time. "Even if Azog is dead, there is always another. Another just a powerful and malicious will rise."

"That is why from the day of my banishment," Eriathwen continued with heat from the years of anger and pan boiling within her, "I have sworn to cut down each and every last orc."

Her voice carried over the company and their heart froze for they could hear the hatred in her stready, slow voice.

"If you hunt them all and watch them burn," she finished, "there is no prophecy to fulfill."

* * *

><p><strong>Elvish Translations:<strong>

_"Prepare for war."_

_"Go."_

_"Promise me, beloved."_

_"Remember what I said."_

**Hope you all have enjoyed the latest chapter of Out of the Shadows. I do apologize if my elvish is not on point or as accurate as in should be. This is the first time I have used a dictionary of sorts to translation English to Quenya, so it may be a bit rough to those that are experts. If anyone has any great resources I could use for future chapters, let me know!**

**Thank you again for all the reviews, favorites and support this story has gotten so far! I am so happy to hear from you all! Big shout out to my reviewers of the previous chapter: Temeraier, PJO-Blue-cookies, BlackBaccaraRose, MignightTales357, Snowball A.K.A. WinterWolf and my lone guest reviewer. Check out MigNightTales357's A Truly Unexpected Journey for more Middle Earth Adventures! Keep sending in your thoughts, feedback, reviews, favorites and more! I love hearing from you all! Until next time!**


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